Life in Red
by XenaFan74656
Summary: Red is not all she seems...


'Time to wake up, inmate,' Bayley's voice was almost apologetic. He wasn't cut out for this job.

Red forced her eyes open. In another life, she'd been a morning person. Briefings had started at 07:00 on the dot and she'd reprimanded anyone who was late. Now she was starting to wish she'd been a little less harsh.

'Come on, inmate,' Bayley said, a note of something like fear in his voice. After all, he would be the one who got into trouble if she was late. It was that thought which made her push off the thin duvet and clamber to her feet. She had a soft spot for Bayley. He reminded her a little of Harry; fresh faced and eager to please.

She cleared her throat, mentally rehearsing the accent before she spoke. She'd got so used to being Russian that she could usually sound convincing with no thought at all, but first thing in the morning she occasionally slipped back into her native Indiana drawl. Strange to think that she could tell anecdotes about Moscow with the best of them, but she'd never actually visited Russia. Of course, no one else round here had either so no one could tell she was lying. And the universal translator still half-functional and embedded in her ear ensured that she could speak the language perfectly.

'Inmate,' Bayley prompted again.

'You're too good for this job, boy,' She muttered to him as she stood. Strange, that even after all these years of being invisible, she still had that urge to be a…what had they jokingly called her? A good shepherd. She didn't want to see the boy waste his life inside a prison when he had the option to be outside it.

She followed him out of the cell she shared with Piper and towards the prison kitchens. Around her, the other inmates were still slumbering or getting as close to slumbering as you could in this place. Red slept better than most. She'd learned to cope with communal living back at the Academy and then aboard the _Al-batani._ And these days she took a great deal of comfort from the simple fact that she was on Earth. Everything else seemed like a minor problem.

As they walked, she made sure to glance over at Nicky just to check on her. The girl was another lost sheep, a victim of circumstance and of her culture. Red sometimes wondered how different she'd be had she been born in another time and place. Red had sworn not to love anyone here – she had to stop herself become attached; she was only a temporary visitor after all – but she'd broken that promise with Nicky. Nicky was her daughter just as much as Kes or Seven had ever been.

They had reached the kitchens now and Red greeted her staff, watching them fall into the easy routine of breakfast. Command, unsurprisingly, came naturally to her, although a kitchen had turned out to be rather more complicated than a starship. And Norma was no substitute for Chakotay.

Chakotay. She paused for a moment. She was slicing bread to make toast and her knife ground to a halt halfway through a slice. Chakotay's face filled her thoughts. She tried not to think of him because some things were simply too painful, but now the image was there she couldn't get rid of it. Did he ever think of her, she wondered. She must be listed as missing in action. She had completed her mission, returned to this time period and stopped the group of rouge Ferengi from altering Earth's history completely, but she'd never come home. The Bajorans had lent Starfleet the Orb of Time to send her back and it had worked perfectly. It had sent the Ferengi home perfectly too, but it had vanished when they did, leaving her stranded.

'Red,' Mendoza was beside her now, an impatient expression on her face. 'Do you want us to do eggs this morning or not?'

'Why not? Red said. 'Let the girls have a treat.'

Mendoza shook her head in annoyance and went to find the eggs. Red had developed a grudging respect for the other woman; in another time she would have flourished on the bridge of a starship.

Extracting the knife from the bread, Red began to lay out the slices ready for toasting, and another memory assaulted her; five years ago, back on _Voyager_ , she was in the galley with Neelix and Naomi Wildman and the little girl had just burnt her finger on a slice of too warm bread. Naomi laughed it off, but Seven had been there too and had wanted to take the child to the Doctor. Red remembered looking across at them and smiling just because they were there, because they were family.

'I saw a shooting star last night,' Gina was next to her now, helping her with the slices of bread.

'Oh really?' Red said, trying to sound indifferent. 'What were you doing outside after lights out?'

'I wasn't. Saw it through the bathroom window. It was pretty though.'

Red said nothing. She tried not to think of the stars.

'Do you think there's anyone up there? Like aliens?'

Tears had suddenly sprung into Red's eyes and she quickly blinked them away. The shooting star was most likely a Vulcan ship. They'd been watching Earth at this time. Perhaps it was commanded by one of Tuvok's ancestors. 'I think,' she said, trying to keep her voice steady 'that you've been watching too much television if you're thinking of aliens. I don't believe a word of it.'

'But wouldn't it be amazing if there were?'

Red couldn't help herself. She smiled 'Oh yes,' she said. 'Imagine a vast Federation of alien worlds, all living in peace and harmony.'

Gina laughed. 'That's never happen. Aliens would fight, just like people do.' She picked up one of the trays of toast and walked over to the other side of the kitchen.

'I wish I could show it to you,' Red murmured, too low for anyone to hear, Russian accent gone for the moment. She remembered the desperation of those first few days after the Orb had disappeared and then the gradual realisation that she'd have to make her way in this new world. She'd worked out a way to rig up a subspace transponder which might be able to send a message through the eons to Starfleet, but the components were expensive and, in this society, crime had seemed the quickest way to find enough money. And her lack of a passport was easier to explain if she'd come from a country no one had visited. She wasn't proud of what she'd done, but there was no sense in feeling guilty about it now.

'Coming to the garden later?' Vause had appeared at her elbow. She hadn't been assigned to the kitchens for long and appeared to be hating every minute of it, but then Vause appeared to hate most things.

'Of course,' Red said. The gardens were important to her. Over the years she'd managed to have several of the components for the subspace transponder smuggled into the prison and they were stashed in the greenhouses. She just needed to work out the best way to assemble them. And, once she had, Chakotay and Starfleet would come for her.

'Good,' Vause had turned as if to walk away, but then she paused and looked over her shoulder. 'Strange question, but I realised the other day that I don't actually know your first name. I'm assuming your parents didn't name you Red.'

Red looked up. The usual lie was on the tip of her tongue, but the thought of the subspace transponder in the greenhouse made her hesitate. She'd been invisible far too long and she suddenly wanted someone around here to know her for who she really was. 'They didn't,' she said 'They named me Kathryn.'

'Doesn't sound very Russian,' Vause said doubtfully.

Kathryn Janeway smiled properly for the first time in a long time. 'It isn't,' she said, all traces of a Russian accent gone. And then she walked away, leaving Vause with a lot of things to think about.


End file.
